


capacity

by madameofmusic



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Allusions to anxiety and Jack's past, M/M, WIP Week, canon typical drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 04:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11305656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madameofmusic/pseuds/madameofmusic
Summary: Bad Bob's made mistakes, he's realizing now. Bitty helps him realize that's not everything.





	capacity

“I used to be a bad father.” Bad Bob (a name Bitty is so used to hearing he can’t break himself of using it now) leans back against the wall, and takes a long drink from the beer in his hand.

Though Bitty doesn’t like him much anymore, not after what Jack’s told him about his dad and all the unnecessary pressure he put on Jack throughout his life, his southern sense of hospitality opens his lips, the words “You’re not-” before Bob holds up a hand to stop him.

“Eric, I was.” He looks over at Bitty, and a small, self-depreciating smile lifts the corner of his mouth. “I know it, Alicia knows it, hell, even Jack knows it now.” He shrugs, thumb tracing over the edge of his can. “I think you do too, Eric.”

Eric frowns, unsure what to say. The stubborn part of him wants to scream that Jack is the way he is because of Bob, wracked with panic attacks in the early morning before games and overly guilty if he messes up in even the slightest, but the other part of him recognizes Bob’s words as something else. An apology, maybe, or just an acknowledgement, so that Eric might stop glaring at him so much. Another still recognizes that it’s not all Bob’s fault Jack’s had all the trouble he did. Sometimes, Bitty thinks, that’s just how things are.

“I just. I thought Jack wanted to be like me, you know?” Bob sighs, takes another drink. “When he was little, that’s all he’d say. _‘One day, I’m going to be just like you, papa.’’”_ Bob’s quiet for a second, a small grin gracing his face as he tilts his head up to look at the stars. “I’d tell him he was going to be better. And maybe I told him that so much that he started thinking he _had_ to be.”

Bitty folds his arms across his chest, shifts his stance to rest against the wall next to Bob. “I just wanted him to be happy, and it took until he was in the hospital for me to see that he wasn’t.” Bob’s voice is quiet, and it’s absolutely _heartbreaking_ how much pain Eric hears there. He recognizes that pain, it’s the same in Jack’s voice when he talks about how he disappointed his dad by going to Samwell instead of into the NHL.

“Mr. Zimmermann, if I may-” Bitty stops, looking over at Bob. The man swivels his head, and makes a gesture, a go ahead. “I don’t think all of the way Jack is is your fault.”

Bob chuckles softly, and nods. “But sir,” Bitty isn’t exactly sure where he’s going with this, voice trailing off as he frowns, thinking. “I think maybe you need to tell Jack you love him more often. Tell him you’re proud of him.”

Bob frowns now too, meeting Bitty’s eyes. He opens his mouth to say something, but Bitty continues before he can. “And not just when he makes a goal, or his team wins a game. Whenever, all the time. You are proud of him, aren’t you?”

Bob nods, looking confused. “Of course I am, more than anything. He’s been through a lot and came out the other side.”

Bitty pushes away from the wall, pockets his hands, and smiles at Bob Zimmermann. “Then tell him that.” He turns on his heel, and begins walking back to his fancy new house. “Goodnight, sir.” He says over his shoulder, and hears the sentiment echoed back at him from Bob.

That night, Jack crawls into bed and wraps his arms around Bitty, long after the party has ended and most everyone had gone home, except for the few Bitty knew were planning on staying anyway. “You alright?” Bitty asks, laying one of his hands over Jack’s and threading their fingers together.

Jack presses a kiss to the back of Bitty’s neck, and he can feel the soft smile there. “Yeah.”

Eric mumbles “good,” and closes his eyes once more, letting sleep wash over him and rinse away the stress of the long day, and the talk with Bob, and let him forget for a little while longer about the beer cans and solo cups covering every surface of his new house that he’ll have to clean up tomorrow.

The next morning, he wakes to Ransom and Holster bursting into he and Jack’s shared room, Shitty and Lardo not far behind, chanting for pancakes. “Jack’s already downstairs, bro, hurry _up_.” Lardo says, flicking his forehead and grinning. Ransom and Holster are looking at the pictures on the walls, the more risque ones Jack has taken.

That gets him out of bed.

“Shoo, out, go.” He shoves them out of the room, and slams the door, cheeks bright red. “I’ll be down soon,” he yells through the door. He knows he’s getting chirped for the photos, especially the ones that frame him in soft light, their shared bed the backdrop, the ones that stop just above his waist. The _private_ ones.

A few minutes later, he pads into the kitchen, still yawning. Jack is there, in rumpled formalwear, talking to… Jack? He blinks, and quickly realizes it’s not Jack in a button down, but his father. Alicia is propped up against the counter, staring into a cup of coffee. “Uh-”

Jack, actual Jack, looks up at him and smiles. “Hey, Bits.” He accepts the kiss Bitty bends down to give him. “I was just telling dad about our photoshoot.”

Bitty gives him a look. Ransom and Holster start snickering.

Jack flushes. “Not _that_ one. The other one. The skating one, when we went out on the lake, and-”

Bitty smiles. “I know, sweetpea.” Bitty starts taking out ingredients and dumping them into a bowl. He feels someone brush up next to him, and looks over. It’s Alicia, sleep-rumpled and curious. “Want to help.”

“Sure.” She smiles at him. Bitty shows her how he makes his pancakes, listening to the chatter behind him with a smile on his face.

Jack and his dad have a long way to go, and a lot to talk about. But this? This is a good start.

**Author's Note:**

> Written/Completed for WIP Week, Day One: Oldest WIP. Not technically my oldest, but all the other older ones are too much work for one day. There was originally gonna be more, but I didn't... write down what that was going to be. 
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://whiskeytangofrogman.tumblr.com/).


End file.
